Tuesday, 14 March 2006

Eugene Onegin (Dress Rehearsal)

Convention states that one does not comment, critically or complimentarily, on the performance of a Dress Rehearsal, because it's a working rehearsal and,f or example, singers may not sing out.

A new production, with new sets, new costumes and new wigs.

Ah yes, wig. Dmitri Hvorostovsky wore a black wig in the first two acts, a bit of a shock when one is expecting to see that distinctive silver mane. But it had come off by Act 3, to signify his aging.

Costumes. The leading men's' costumes were wonderful. Most noticeable was that the trousers - sort of lycra breeches, Mr Darcy-style, were tight. Very tight. But no tighter than they had to be. Both our leading chaps have fine figures and looked delightful in these figure-hugging trousers. We would advise them to go easy on pies, chocolate and beer for the duration of the run. We considered many fine singers who would not look good in such tight trousers. In the first Act Rolando's were beige; in Act 2 for the ball and the duet he changed into light blue velour breeches. Very fetching.

I know I am supposed to notice the Ladies' dresses a bit more than I do. Amanda Roocroft's outfits after she married Prince Gremin were splendid. I was torn between between the stylish black coat with double-breasted jewelled buttons and snazzy red fur hat and trims she wore when she first re-encountered Onegin, or the rather splendid gold over scarlet dress in the Final Scene, which would match my jewellery.

I would be tempted to say that red was a dominant colour, because in Act 1, all the peasants were wearing red and white. However, the area surrounding Tatiana's bedroom were green and blue. My companion mentioned Dulux for the first scene; the letter scene in the bedroom was exactly to me like a promotional colour chart one would pick up from B&Q. The ball scene was very very colourful indeed. The duel scene was, in effect, monochrome, set on a frozen river (we'll return to the river), and the next 'ball scene' - which was enacted as a skating party - was also monochrome with costumes in bold colours. The colours of the final scene matched the old gold of Tatiana's dress.

There were gimmicks galore. Possibly no new production at the Royal Opera House can happen without The Box. The misshapen box, set an angle, which acts as an (almost) self-contained stage within a stage. In this it served both as Tatiana's bedroom at her childhood home and her library at Prince Gremin's townhouse.

Another gimmick was the frieze. The opera opened with an additional curtain portraying an enormous picture of a naked man in foetus position (so no naughty bits...). at least, I think it was a man. Very androgynous. Possibly a buff man with incongruous man-boobs. This later changed into a similar size homoerotic picture that must have been inspired by a Crucifixion of Christ painting.

The most important gimmick however was the river. Do not underestimate the importance of the river. I most certainly did at first. Act I scene 1 began with the girls sitting on a marble altar in the river; for some reason it reminded me of the Dead Diana shrine at Althorp. The frieze of the buff-man-with-man-boobs was lowered and behind I could see scenery. I saw planks of wood and assumed them to be the 19th Century Russian equivalent of sunloungers. The three dimensions of the rural scenery worked well, with hills rolling away and in the distance a building. The frieze rose to reveal the sunloungers to be plank bridges across a river. One of the extras picked up the building and carried it away , ruining the illusion of perspective.

After Tatiana had spent the night writing a letter to Onegin, some hefty chaps came on stage to wheel away her bedroom aka The Box, and the ground on which it stood was flooded with water and suddenly became a river again. I did not see the point of the wooden plank bridges because everyone waded across the water regardless. Except for Onegin, who, being a Haughty-Russkie used the bridge. And Tatiana who splashed maniacally in it. Note for the Weak-Bladdered. You will need a wee stop before this begins. There is a lot of water.

In the interval we speculated as to how the duel would be staged. We concluded that we wouldn't mind a bit of Operatic Mud Wrestling in the river, perhaps with some gentlemanly white shirts getting wet. In the event, the river was frozen. Lensky pointed the gun at his own head before attempting to shoot Onegin, but Onegin had shot him first. For Lensky it was heart-wrenching (and he died). Onegin was as emotionally involved as someone might be when knocking icicles off a garden gate.

We monitored the opera for key operatic moments.

No furniture was abused. Plenty was left in strategic places, looking as if it might be ripe for abusing but it all remained firmly upright. Rolando teased and tantalised my furniture-abuse-fetishist friend by appearing to threaten the furniture on more than one occasion in the aftermath of the ball, but in the end he merely knocked over a pile of books - perhaps a more intellectual form of furniture abuse.

There was no chest hair on display although Onegin did turn up at the Gremin's skating party with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Perhaps that's a uniquely Russian way of dressing for the cold. But I understand that Dima doesn't do chest hair.

Wonderfully, we had some extremely good tenorial falling to the ground. In despair, at the end of the Ball scene, in preparation for the musical highlight of the entire opera, Lenski's Aria, Kuda, Kuda. And his tumble to the ground on being shot was a tenorial death par excellence. The Pupil has learnt well from the Master.

I'm going to the performance a week tomorrow, after which I shall discuss issues like orchestra, and singing, and the stupidity of male 'honour'.

Comments

Convention states that one does not comment, critically or complimentarily, on the performance of a Dress Rehearsal, because it's a working rehearsal and,f or example, singers may not sing out.

A new production, with new sets, new costumes and new wigs.

Ah yes, wig. Dmitri Hvorostovsky wore a black wig in the first two acts, a bit of a shock when one is expecting to see that distinctive silver mane. But it had come off by Act 3, to signify his aging.

Costumes. The leading men's' costumes were wonderful. Most noticeable was that the trousers - sort of lycra breeches, Mr Darcy-style, were tight. Very tight. But no tighter than they had to be. Both our leading chaps have fine figures and looked delightful in these figure-hugging trousers. We would advise them to go easy on pies, chocolate and beer for the duration of the run. We considered many fine singers who would not look good in such tight trousers. In the first Act Rolando's were beige; in Act 2 for the ball and the duet he changed into light blue velour breeches. Very fetching.

I know I am supposed to notice the Ladies' dresses a bit more than I do. Amanda Roocroft's outfits after she married Prince Gremin were splendid. I was torn between between the stylish black coat with double-breasted jewelled buttons and snazzy red fur hat and trims she wore when she first re-encountered Onegin, or the rather splendid gold over scarlet dress in the Final Scene, which would match my jewellery.

I would be tempted to say that red was a dominant colour, because in Act 1, all the peasants were wearing red and white. However, the area surrounding Tatiana's bedroom were green and blue. My companion mentioned Dulux for the first scene; the letter scene in the bedroom was exactly to me like a promotional colour chart one would pick up from B&Q. The ball scene was very very colourful indeed. The duel scene was, in effect, monochrome, set on a frozen river (we'll return to the river), and the next 'ball scene' - which was enacted as a skating party - was also monochrome with costumes in bold colours. The colours of the final scene matched the old gold of Tatiana's dress.

There were gimmicks galore. Possibly no new production at the Royal Opera House can happen without The Box. The misshapen box, set an angle, which acts as an (almost) self-contained stage within a stage. In this it served both as Tatiana's bedroom at her childhood home and her library at Prince Gremin's townhouse.

Another gimmick was the frieze. The opera opened with an additional curtain portraying an enormous picture of a naked man in foetus position (so no naughty bits...). at least, I think it was a man. Very androgynous. Possibly a buff man with incongruous man-boobs. This later changed into a similar size homoerotic picture that must have been inspired by a Crucifixion of Christ painting.

The most important gimmick however was the river. Do not underestimate the importance of the river. I most certainly did at first. Act I scene 1 began with the girls sitting on a marble altar in the river; for some reason it reminded me of the Dead Diana shrine at Althorp. The frieze of the buff-man-with-man-boobs was lowered and behind I could see scenery. I saw planks of wood and assumed them to be the 19th Century Russian equivalent of sunloungers. The three dimensions of the rural scenery worked well, with hills rolling away and in the distance a building. The frieze rose to reveal the sunloungers to be plank bridges across a river. One of the extras picked up the building and carried it away , ruining the illusion of perspective.

After Tatiana had spent the night writing a letter to Onegin, some hefty chaps came on stage to wheel away her bedroom aka The Box, and the ground on which it stood was flooded with water and suddenly became a river again. I did not see the point of the wooden plank bridges because everyone waded across the water regardless. Except for Onegin, who, being a Haughty-Russkie used the bridge. And Tatiana who splashed maniacally in it. Note for the Weak-Bladdered. You will need a wee stop before this begins. There is a lot of water.

In the interval we speculated as to how the duel would be staged. We concluded that we wouldn't mind a bit of Operatic Mud Wrestling in the river, perhaps with some gentlemanly white shirts getting wet. In the event, the river was frozen. Lensky pointed the gun at his own head before attempting to shoot Onegin, but Onegin had shot him first. For Lensky it was heart-wrenching (and he died). Onegin was as emotionally involved as someone might be when knocking icicles off a garden gate.

We monitored the opera for key operatic moments.

No furniture was abused. Plenty was left in strategic places, looking as if it might be ripe for abusing but it all remained firmly upright. Rolando teased and tantalised my furniture-abuse-fetishist friend by appearing to threaten the furniture on more than one occasion in the aftermath of the ball, but in the end he merely knocked over a pile of books - perhaps a more intellectual form of furniture abuse.

There was no chest hair on display although Onegin did turn up at the Gremin's skating party with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Perhaps that's a uniquely Russian way of dressing for the cold. But I understand that Dima doesn't do chest hair.

Wonderfully, we had some extremely good tenorial falling to the ground. In despair, at the end of the Ball scene, in preparation for the musical highlight of the entire opera, Lenski's Aria, Kuda, Kuda. And his tumble to the ground on being shot was a tenorial death par excellence. The Pupil has learnt well from the Master.

I'm going to the performance a week tomorrow, after which I shall discuss issues like orchestra, and singing, and the stupidity of male 'honour'.